Warrior King, page 2
“The trouble isn’t only in the south,” added Cyn. “Lord Darrian of Glosnecke is just as bad. I still say you should’ve thrown him into the dungeon after what he got up to.”
“I won’t lock up a man because he disagrees with me.”
“A noble sentiment,” said Father Vernan. “If only your detractors showed such sense.”
“Presently, I have a considerable amount of support from the common folk, but that will change if things don’t get better.”
“What we need to do is boost the economy. If we drive up profits, thereby filling people’s pockets, they’ll forget about politics.”
“You make a good point,” said Ludwig. “What if we lowered the tax rates for businesses?”
“We can’t,” replied Merrick. “We need to fund the army.”
“Ah, but if business picks up, more goods will be taxed, so we’d be trading a tax break for an increase in the number of items taxed. Stimulating trade is what we need, although admittedly, I’m no merchant.”
“I suggest you consult Charlotte,” said Emmett. “She has a good head for such things.”
“An excellent idea. I believe that concludes our business of the day. Anyone want to bring something up while we’re all together?”
“Yes,” said Sigwulf. “I think it’s time you assigned bodyguards to Frederick on a permanent basis. I know he’s still young, but with questionable loyalty amongst some of your subjects, it seems like the prudent thing to do. I’d be happy to arrange it if you wish.”
Ludwig had always been of the mind that his life, and by extension, the life of his family, would not change no matter his status, but now he was beginning to wonder if that was possible. As the king, he must accept that there’d always be those who viewed him as the enemy, regardless of his attempts to mend fences.
It saddened him to contemplate Frederick growing up in such surroundings, but there was no way to undo the past. “Very well,” he said at last. “But please confer with Gustavo about who’d be most appropriate. He is, after all, the captain of the Royal Guard.”
“Certainly,” replied Sig. “I’ll have a list of names for you by the end of the week.”
“On another note,” said Cyn, “there’s the matter of the Elves of Nethendril. You agreed to come to their aid if they were attacked, but now that you’re king, it needs to be formalized. I suggest inviting a delegation here, to Harlingen, to demonstrate your desire for a lasting peace.” She grinned. “It might also serve to shock some of your more vocal critics when Elves show up in the streets.”
Sigwulf chuckled. “And give them something else to gossip about in the parlours of the capital. I wish I’d thought of that.”
“I’ll compose a letter today,” said Ludwig. “Cyn, can I rely on you to arrange a messenger to carry it to Nethendril?”
“My pleasure.”
“Have the Temple Knights of Saint Mathew settled in?”
Father Vernan nodded. “Indeed. They’ve yet to build a commandery, but they found a couple of suitable buildings to provide them with sufficient shelter in the short term. While we’re on the subject, might I make a suggestion?”
“By all means.”
“The Temple Knights are well-respected by the people of Harlingen. Would you consider granting them permission to keep the peace on the city streets?”
“Why would he do that?” asked Sigwulf. “He has his own men to keep the peace.”
“He does, but they are more likely to be viewed as enforcing the king’s will rather than keeping the city safe. Seeing Temple Knights riding around would help allay fears that His Majesty is preparing to purge his enemies.”
“And how would that work, precisely?” pressed Sig. “Are criminals now to be tried in an ecclesiastical court?”
“The intent would be to hand them over to the appropriate Royal Authorities for judgement. The Temple Knights would only arrest those who’ve broken the law.”
“I like the idea,” replied Ludwig, “but we’d have to work out the details before implementing it.”
“I’m certain they’d be amenable to discussing the matter further.”
“Good. Cyn, I’d like you to oversee that, if you don’t mind.”
“I’d be happy to,” she replied.
“Excellent,” said Father Vernan. “I shall arrange a meeting with Temple Captain Hamelyn.”
“Would he need permission from his regional commander?”
“I doubt it. Temple Knights already patrol the streets of many cities in the Petty Kingdoms, so you’ll find them most accommodating when it comes to rules and regulations. That is, after all, how they live their lives.”
The door opened, revealing Charlotte, Gita, and Alexandra. “I hope I’m not interrupting anything important,” said the queen, “but you’re late for dinner, and the food is getting cold.”
“My apologies,” replied Ludwig, “but we had much to discuss.”
“Is there a reason these matters cannot be discussed over the dinner table?”
“Not that I can see.”
Sigwulf’s belly rumbled.
Charlotte chuckled. “Then how about we get some food into Sig’s belly before he passes out from lack of sustenance?”
“You heard her, my lords. We should not trifle with a northerner’s hunger!” Ludwig stood, prompting the others to do likewise. “All things considered, I don’t know why we didn’t think of this before we began the meeting.”
“Because you didn’t have me here to suggest it,” replied Charlotte. “Now, come along, all of you, before the servants tire of waiting and clear it all away.”
2
Struggles
Spring 1105 SR
Ludwig was required to address a myriad of problems over the following weeks. He felt as if he was being bombarded with questions from sunup to sundown, everything from what food favoured his palate to who should be allowed entry to the Royal Keep without an invitation. He finally had enough and empowered the staff to make most decisions on his behalf.
Adding to his burden was the endless stream of individuals seeking the king’s justice. Some were legitimate complaints, but many of the cases brought to his attention were one neighbour complaining about another, leading him to request a meeting with Lord Merrick, which the Baron of Drakenfeld hadn’t been expecting.
“You wanted to see me, sire?” Merrick shifted as he waited for the king’s response.
“I did. Don’t worry. You’re not in trouble, and please, it’s Ludwig, remember? This is not a formal meeting.” The king hesitated. “No. I suppose it is a formal meeting, but let’s keep it friendly, shall we?”
The baron breathed a sigh of relief. “What do you want to talk to me about?”
“I’m inundated with demands for justice. I understand that’s part of a king’s duty to his subjects, but most complaints are trivial in nature, and I have far more important issues to tackle. To that end, I want to appoint you as my chancellor. As such, you’d be responsible for overseeing the laws of the land and a host of legal matters, save for those requiring intervention on my part.”
“And what, for clarity, would warrant your attention?”
“I shall leave that up to your judgement,” replied Ludwig. “Now, I wouldn’t expect you to fill the position out of the goodness of your heart. There’d be a substantial financial stipend once our treasury is replenished. Would you be interested?”
“To be Lord High Chancellor? I’d be honoured. When would I start?”
“Immediately. You’ll likely require a few days to acquaint yourself with procedures and responsibilities before you begin holding court, but I’ll leave the scheduling up to you.”
“I should begin by reading through our laws,” said Merrick.
“That might prove a tad difficult. Previous kings have issued edicts and made laws, but to my knowledge, there’s no single collection of laws, merely a profusion of individual documents.”
“Then, with your permission, I’ll undertake a revision of our legal system, creating a single book containing all our laws, which we’ll then have scribes copy to distribute across the realm.”
Ludwig smiled. “An excellent idea, although perhaps two books might be more suitable: a book of common laws and one for high crimes?”
“I assume high crimes would be those requiring a decision from the Crown?”
“Yes.” Ludwig mulled it over. “On second thought, I don’t like the idea of a single individual holding the power of life and death over someone accused of a high crime.”
“But you are a just man,” replied Merrick.
“And I will strive to continue to be so, but if we are to reform our laws, it must be for the benefit of the future, not only the present. We both saw what happened when King Morgan took matters into his own hands. I’ll not allow that to happen again.”
“Then I shall strive to carry out your will.”
“Thank you.”
Merrick grinned. “What do you intend to do now that you’ve put all this on my shoulders?”
“Don’t worry. I’ve plenty to keep me busy.”
“Are we still meeting this afternoon?”
“Yes. And remember to bring Gita. I value her insights.”
Merrick rose, ready to leave, but then turned back to the table. “Isn’t the ball this evening?”
“Is it?” said Ludwig. “I’d completely forgotten. I suppose I should probably postpone the meeting, then.”
“You could always hold it afterwards. We’ll all be here, anyway.”
“An excellent suggestion.”
Merrick made an exaggerated bow. “Then I shall see you this evening, Majesty.”
Ludwig chuckled. “That you will. And remember, don’t drink to excess; I want clear heads tonight, Chancellor.”
* * *
Carriages lined the street, even though most of the barons had estates within walking distance. They pulled up before the main doors of the keep, one at a time, allowing each noble to make a spectacular entrance.
Charlotte had arranged the ball for Saint Augustine’s Day, and the guests wore their finest outfits decorated with the symbols of their chosen saints. While her dress incorporated scarlet, along with the three waves of Saint Agnes, Ludwig wore an outfit in the more modest brown favoured by the Mathewites. It might not have impressed the lords of Hadenfeld, but many of the other guests appreciated the effort.
And what a guest list it was! The senior members of the Church of Saint Mathew, Agnes, and Cunar, were in attendance, along with the senior officers of the Temple Knights of Saint Mathew.
Ludwig had invited the officers of his own army to attend, peppering the room with captains aplenty. Added to that were the more influential members of the merchant class, people who, by their actions, bore a direct impact on the prosperity of the kingdom.
“Glad to see you, Master Kerrigan,” said Ludwig as he stood in the receiving line, smiling and firmly grasping yet another hand. “We shall all be enjoying your fine wine this evening.”
The vintner broke into a broad smile. “It is my honour, Your Majesty.” He bowed, then moved along, repeating the process to Charlotte. She uttered words of encouragement, and then the fellow entered the great doors to the keep.
A familiar face was next in line, causing Ludwig to raise an eyebrow. “Master Grossman? I didn’t expect you here tonight. You’re a long way from Malburg.”
“I trust I am not unwelcome?”
“Of course not. It’s good to see you. It just took me by surprise. Are you in the capital on business?”
“I am. Malburg’s ruling council sent me to enquire if we are still expected to maintain a militia. The war has been over for some time, and the expense is draining our coffers.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t think of this sooner,” replied Ludwig. “As you say, the war is over. You may stand down your men with the knowledge that you have earned the Crown’s gratitude.”
“You are most gracious, Majesty.” Grossman nodded, then moved along to Charlotte, offering an extended leg as he bowed and swept off his hat. “Majesty,” he said. “It is a delight to see you gracing us with your presence.”
“Thank you, Master Grossman. I trust Malburg is thriving?”
“It is, though that’s not to say we’re not without our troubles, but with the cessation of hostilities, things are definitely improving.” He offered one more bow, then made his way inside.
Cyn appeared out of nowhere. “That’s everyone, boss,” she said. “Time to make your grand entrance.”
“Are you certain this is absolutely necessary?” asked Ludwig. “We’ve already greeted everyone, and they know we’re present.”
“You’re the king and queen now, Majesty. Appearances need to be kept up, whether you like it or not.”
Charlotte nodded. “I agreed to welcome everyone to the keep alongside you. Now, you must return the favour and make a grand entrance.”
“Let’s get on with it, then, shall we?” Ludwig nodded to Cyn, who passed through the doors to speak with the Royal Herald.
The herald rapped his staff on the floor, silencing those in attendance. “Their Majesties, King Ludwig and Queen Charlotte of Hadenfeld. Long may they reign.”
The two of them entered a room filled with people bowing, save for the guards. Ludwig surveyed the attendees, then waved for everyone to stand up straight. “Thank you. Your devotion is much appreciated.” He paused to consider his next words. “This evening, we gather in celebration of Saint Augustine, a man who dedicated his life to the preservation of Holy Relics. Now, I am no relic, at least not yet.” He waited as laughter broke out. “The coming months will be hectic. Although the war is over and the Throne secure, now, more than ever, we must work together to rebuild the realm.” He nodded towards Charlotte, but she remained silent. “Enjoy,” added Ludwig, “and let the music begin.”
The musicians commenced playing, filling the room with a pleasant tune as the guests mingled, their voices rising as they started conversing with one another.
“That wasn’t so bad,” said Ludwig. He held out his hand. “Shall we dance?”
Charlotte gently grasped it, and he guided her onto the dance floor.
* * *
The dancing continued as the evening wore on, and Ludwig found himself in a philosophical discussion with the local Archprior of Saint Mathew. Father Hywell had been appointed to the position shortly after Ludwig and Charlotte’s coronation when his predecessor was recalled to the Antonine, although no one knew why. Ludwig believed it was because the Holy Father supported him during the recent war, but he had no proof. The inner workings of the Church were a mystery to those outside its walls.
As for the conversation, it concerned whether the Saints were of a divine nature.
“How else,” the archprior said, “would their words have such a lasting impact?”
“I choose to believe they were mortal,” responded Ludwig. “Their words carry such weight because they were meant to teach us how to behave.”
“Exactly my point! How does one become so wise if not for divine inspiration?”
“Their words only became divine after the Church was formed. A feat, I might remind you, that didn’t happen till well after their deaths.”
Hywell chuckled. “I see we’re not going to agree on this, but it hardly matters. What’s more important is living in the spirit of the Saints, not where they obtained their inspiration.”
“I couldn’t have said it better myself.”
Father Vernan wandered over, drink in hand.
“Come to help the archprior win me over to his point of view?” asked Ludwig.
“I try to avoid arguments concerning theology,” replied Vernan. “It never goes well.”
“Are you saying you hold no opinions on the matter?”
“No. Merely that this is a situation I could not win, for in taking a stand, I either annoy my superior or my king.”
The archprior let loose with a chuckle. “Your time in His Majesty’s presence has taught you well.” Father Hywell’s gaze locked on someone across the room. “I hope you will excuse me, Majesty, but there is someone I must speak with.”
“Of course,” said Ludwig.
Father Vernan waited until his superior was out of earshot. “Thank the Saints I was able to get here in time. The archprior would’ve talked your ear off.”
“He seems an amiable enough fellow.”
“Oh, he is, but once he starts, it’s almost impossible to get him to stop.”
“Then I am in your debt. Speaking of which, isn’t it about time you became a prior?”
“I’ve only been a Holy Father for ten years.”
“It feels like longer.”
“That’s because it’s been an event-filled decade. For the record, I was offered a promotion but turned it down to continue as your spiritual advisor.”
“You should’ve said something.”
“I like to think we’ve established a firm friendship over the years, one that allows you to speak to me about anything that concerns you. I shudder to think what a new confessor might bring to the discussion.”
“Then I am indebted to you,” replied Ludwig. “And thankful that you are still with me now that I’m king.”
“Yes, about that,” said Vernan. “You have some hard decisions to make in the near future.”
“Are you referring to something specific or merely in general?”
The Holy Father nodded towards the centre of the room, where Lord Darrian Forst, the Baron of Glosnecke, was taking a turn on the dance floor and proving to be most adept at it. “You and he have a history. Will that be a problem going forward?”
“Not on my part, but he’s proven difficult to work with in the past.”
“Might I suggest you take pains to reconcile? He is, after all, one of your barons.”
